Letting Her in
by Lavenderangel
Summary: Post-Exodus. Clark is home and not happy. With his parents angry at him and Clark hating himself, can anyone get through to him? Complete.


Title: Letting Her in Author: Lala Rating: G Pairing: Clark/Lana Spoilers: Exodus Summary: Post-Exodus. Clark is home and not happy. Disclaimer: Not mine, never mine. Author's notes: This appeared on my screen and I thought you might like. Feedback?  
  
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Forks scraped on plates, but that was the only sound. Silence had never seemed to be so loud, but now it seemed almost deafening.  
  
"I."  
  
"Clark, you have apologized and I have accepted it." Jonathon's voice wasn't cold, but it wasn't tender with love. It was civil, as though he were talking to a business partner instead of his own son. "It's just going to take a while for things to get back to normal around here."  
  
"I understand." But he didn't. Not really.  
  
He hated what he had done, regretted it with every fiber of his being, but there was no way he could even begin to imagine the incredible pain he knew his parents must be suffering.  
  
Because of him.  
  
Everything was because of him.  
  
If it weren't for him, his parents would be happy.  
  
If it weren't for him, then innocent people wouldn't have been hurt by rocks from his planet.  
  
And if it weren't for him, Lana's parents wouldn't be dead.  
  
He hated himself, wished to stop his very existence.  
  
But he was indestructible, so was forced to continue on living, trying to heal but never succeeding.  
  
The warn couch sagged under him as he sat, staring off into space, the loft just as silent as the dinner table had been.  
  
His father had built this place for him, out of love.  
  
That love was gone he knew. His father didn't have to say it.  
  
He shouldn't be sitting up here, feeling the comfort of the couch underneath him, using his telescope to stare out at the sky where he had come from thirteen years before.  
  
He descended the stairs and left the barn.  
  
His vision blurred and instantly his hand was slapping at his cheeks, ready to wipe the first tear away.  
  
But it wasn't from tears.  
  
Rain fell in sheets around him, hitting the ground and the barn roof.  
  
And hitting him, like ice drops of spite.  
  
He looked all around, squinting through the water which had soaked him in seconds.  
  
The house looked so warm, so inviting.  
  
But looking through the wall, he saw his father and mother holding one another on the couch, and he knew they would not welcome his return.  
  
He walked back through the barn doors, the rain sounding louder in here. But he didn't head for the stairs, instead going to the stalls where the animals were kept.  
  
Horses looked back at him, and he met their gaze with his.  
  
He sunk down next to an empty stall. The animals wouldn't judge him, would they?  
  
The hey looked so comfortable and he crawled into the unoccupied stall. The hey stuck to his damp skin, falling on his hair and sticking like glue, fresh from the bottle, but he didn't care.  
  
He just sat, waiting for warmth, waiting for comfort.  
  
But it never came.  
  
He couldn't take comfort from this, not like the horses could.  
  
He wasn't one of them.  
  
He wasn't even human.  
  
He didn't fit in.  
  
He didn't belong.  
  
For a while, he'd fooled himself into thinking that he could be a human, could make himself fit in.  
  
But no.  
  
Never.  
  
No matter what he tried, no matter where he went, he would always be different.  
  
He would always bring despair.  
  
He was despair.  
  
He deserved to feel this pain ebbing through his heart, causing his throat to tighten and his eyes to burn.  
  
He deserved misery he knew, but he hated it.  
  
"Come on boy, let's get you out of the rain."  
  
The voice was like the lilting song of a bird, like water rushing over rocks in a stream.  
  
It was soft and angelic and beautiful, just like the speaker.  
  
He heard her walking across the barn floor, the clomping of horse shoes accompanying hers.  
  
"We don't want you to get sick now, do we."  
  
She continued talking to it as though it would suddenly answer her back, and he froze as the stall door opened, exposing him.  
  
"Let's dry you off and . Clark?!"  
  
Gone was the gentle tone, replaced by surprise mixed with anger and maybe a tinge of love.  
  
He leaped from his crouched position and slid passed her and the horse, all three of them dripping with rain.  
  
Wordlessly she led Tyson into his stall, dried him and combed his cote until it shown.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow," she told him, stroking his main one last time before closing the stall door.  
  
She turned to face him, her rain soaked hair swirling around with her and hitting his face like a whip, expressing her anger.  
  
Yet he could still smell her shampoo, and remembered the feel of her hair as he'd ran his fingers through it. It was silky soft and was filled with the uniquely Lana sent that encompassed her wherever she went and that he adored so greatly.  
  
She watched him and their eyes finally met.  
  
Clouded hazel orbs meeting jade green depths filled with a mixture of emotions.  
  
Her hand came up and she brushed some hey from his shirt collar, her fingers grazing his neck for the briefest of seconds.  
  
But for that brief moment in time, he felt the cold leave a part of him.  
  
Felt the comfort he'd desperately been seeking for the smallest of seconds.  
  
And then it was gone, like the turning off of a light, and the cold was back, surrounding him, blocking out all sources of hope or warmth or solace.  
  
"What are you doing out here?" He was surprised to hear no bitterness in her tone. He replayed the question over in his mind a few times, looking for any traces of accusation, of hurt or betrayal.  
  
There was none, at least to his knowledge.  
  
"I. I was just thinking," he replied finally. Truthfully, he was as unsure as she as to why he was out here.  
  
"About what?" He doubted she expected him to answer, or at least truthfully, but he did.  
  
"About how I always ruin people's lives."  
  
She was not used to him opening up to her, and he was not used to doing so. He remembered the day he'd left Smallville, she'd asked why he couldn't let her in.  
  
He suddenly wanted to let her in, wanted the feeling that holding her always gave him.  
  
Normally, he doubted he would have continued the conversation, but this time was different.  
  
This time, she had asked and she was the only one who had done it kindly.  
  
His mother's voice was filled with a deep sadness when she addressed him and his father's with anger.  
  
But hers was not.  
  
It wasn't its usual warmth, but she did not seem to be mad at him.  
  
"Why do you think that?"  
  
Her question caught him off guard, and he blinked, confused.  
  
"Why do you think you bring pain to everyone's lives?"  
  
"Because I do," was his response.  
  
"Not intentionally?"  
  
"Of course not. I never wanted to hurt them. I never wanted to hurt you."  
  
"But you did." Her voice hardened just a little, and it stung, like salt in an open wound.  
  
"I know. And I am so sorry. But you'd better stay away from me, before I do it again."  
  
The burning was returning to his eyes, and his throat was growing tight. He sucked in a breath of air, and his breathing was shaky as he fought an inner battle with himself to hold back the impending emotions.  
  
"Do you love me?"  
  
"Yes." The answer came out before he could stop it, the word barely a whisper on his lips.  
  
"Then you'll never hurt me. Not for long. And if we're honest with each other, then I'll for give you and things will be all right again."  
  
A droplet of water dripped down his cheek, bringing another peace of hey with it. He thought he still must not be dry from outside, but then he blinked and more followed and he knew it wasn't rain this time.  
  
Her hand moved, coming up and cupping his cheek. The warmth was back and lasted longer this time, as her gentle fingers whiped the tear away but her hand did not leave his face after doing so.  
  
"If - if you knew," he told her shakily, "you'd hate me. You'd never want to talk to me again, never even want to see me."  
  
"That's not true."  
  
"You can't say that for sure."  
  
"Tell me, please?"  
  
"I-I-I."  
  
"I promise I won't hate you." Again her eyes met his, and he saw the love clearly this time. "I could never do that."  
  
Slowly, hesitantly he nodded, fearing if he spoke that more tears would come and never stop.  
  
Her hand finally left his cheek, but the cold was not as strong. Her fingers intertwined with his as she led him towards the stairs and up to his fortress of solitude, relief in her eyes.  
  
And as he sat once again on the warn couch, their fingers still clasped together, he finally let her in. 


End file.
